


What's Lost

by avadedrahetarra



Series: What's Lost [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV, Gladiolus Amicitia - Fandom, Ignis Scientia - Fandom, Noctis Lucis Caelum - Fandom, Prompto Argentum - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Promise, Secrets, Strained Relationships, battles, lots of the boys teasing each other and goofing off, there are no spoilers here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9328433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avadedrahetarra/pseuds/avadedrahetarra
Summary: A series of events happen all in one swift moment, leaving Ignis staggered and confused. Slowly, he begins to realize that it’s becoming harder and harder to summon his weapons at will. And if that wasn’t enough, something unseen begins to wreak havoc on his day-to-day life. There’s only one place to go to find a way to save Ignis’ life.The Library of KingsIn the CitadelIn Insomnia





	1. Chapter 1

…1…

  _Deep in the dungeons, where the air was stale and old, Ignis was starting to worry. Not that he’d admit it out loud, of course, but he was worried none-the-less. They’d been wandering for what felt like hours down here, and each goblin horde seemed bigger than the last._

 _“I think we’re lost,” Noctis announced, bending to scoop a few useless rocks from the floor at yet another dead end. “Why couldn’t someone have dropped something_ useful _in here… like a map?”_

_Gladiolus stood with his back to them, watching the way they’d come. He snorted, crossing his arms over his massive chest._

_“Because that would be too easy. The gods can’t let that happen.”_

_Ignis pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed. “No choice. We’d better go on.”_

_He turned to look at the youngest member of their group, their gunslinger, who had been oddly silent as he stood there, scuffing the dirt with his boot._

_“Prompto? Something on your mind?”_

_“Huh? Eh? No. Let’s just get out of here.”_

_Gladiolus let the three file out before him, ever present was the shield at their backs. Well, at Noctis’ back, but Ignis and Prompto received that protection from time to time. It was enough._

_After what seemed another hour, Ignis’s worry suddenly spiked. He opened his mouth to speak when the attack came._

_A horde of Imps and a Mindflayer burst to life all around them, as if they’d been laying in wait. Noctis’s storm lance burst to life and began to flash as he waded into the fray. The echo from Prompto’s guns was deafening in such close quarters, but what was a little bit of ringing to the ear compared to being dead? And Gladiolus, with his massive sword swinging, was taking chunks out of the Mindflayer. Smirking, Ignis called out his daggers and gave them a spin, then turned on his heel and charged the Imp that had tried to sneak up on him._

_They battled valiantly, supporting one another as needed. Flashes of weaponry changing to adapt, and curatives being used to keep them going filled the tunnel they fought in with a mass of light. Ignis thought they might just have this one bagged._

_Then he felt the sting in his back, saw the wave of green poisonous light wash over and around him. Gasping, gagging, he went to his knees._

_“Iggy!” Prompto screamed from somewhere to his right. “Get up! Iggy!”_

_Coughing, he waved in the direction of the voice, already calling up the antidote from their supply. He activated it, taking a deep breath as it pushed back the poisonous air around him. An Imp closed in, reaching out to claw his left arm, one single line opening up through his jacket and shirt sleeve, cutting a deep furrow just beneath his elbow. Lashing out, he drove the blade of one of his daggers into the Imp’s head, watching as it misted out of existence. Checking the wound, he saw that it wasn’t bleeding too badly, so ignored it and ran back into the battle. Afterward, he’d forgotten about it until they’d found what they needed and left the dungeon behind._

_That night, as he stripped out of his clothes to clean up and put on something clean, he looked at the wound. About two inches long, it lay open and red on his pale skin. Not wanting to waste an entire potion on something so tiny, he simply bandaged it up and went on with things. It didn’t even hurt._

In the pre-dawn darkness of the hotel room the four men were sharing, Ignis’s eyes snapped open. Without his glasses, everything wavered and slipped focus for just a few seconds before sliding to near perfect clarity. The only sound was the breathing of the two men in the bed with him and the soft snores of the larger man who had an entire bed to himself. Lifting his head, he looked them over.

Noctis and Prompto were on one side of the big bed, a tangle of gangly limbs and blankets. Those two always slept like they were kids, piled up and uncaring. Ignis supposed that was what having a best friend was like; personal space was nothing. Across the room, in the bed by the door, Gladiolus lay on his back, bare chest rising and falling slowly in the rhythm of sleep. As deeply asleep as he knew Gladio was, Ignis knew that the mountain of a man would come awake in seconds at the slightest provocation. But for the moment, they all slept well.

Moving slowly, carefully, Ignis pulled himself from the bed. His feet found his shoes, his hands finding his jacket, which he pulled over his sleep shirt. Making sure to take a key, he eased out of the room.

It was cool, a slight breeze blowing the left over smell of the night’s rain across his skin. Skirting the building, he found the ladder that would let him onto the roof and climbed it, careful not to slip. Once there, he found a sheltered, dry spot to sit. It was still quiet; barely even any birdsong in the trees. He rubbed his face a moment before carefully easing up both of his sleeves on his left arm. Peeling back the bandage he kept on it, Ignis frowned. The wound… he’d received it a week ago… was still there. It didn’t bleed, was only mildly tender, but no amount of healing potions he’d had to use in the interim time had made it go away. Any other gash or bump or wound had been mended. But not this one.

And that wasn’t the only issue.

A day or so after that run-in with the Imps, they’d met with some pretty low level beasts on a hunt, an easy take-down more for the gil than for anything. Ignis hadn’t noticed right away that the spark of his weapon summoning was a bit duller than it should have been, but his daggers had done their work well, although his left arm had started to flag and weaken near the end of the fight. He’d played it off, checking on the Prince and Prompto before tending to himself. It had taken two attempts to materialize the healing potion he needed, but he’d only attributed that to being exhausted. Which he was.

But that didn’t explain what was happening now.

Letting the sleeve drop, he held up one hand. Sending a plea and a prayer to the Hexatheon, and tried to summon up one of his daggers. There was the barest, faintest spark that was instantly blown away but the dew damp breeze. Gritting his teeth, Ignis tried again to the same end. Growing frustrated, he tried again. Again. Again. The spark finally stopped coming and his left arm throbbed, robbing him of his breath. Laying a hand over the wound, he panted softly, trying to calm himself.

“Iggy?”

The familiar gruff voice, quiet this morning, caught him off guard. How Gladiolus, with all of his girth, could move so silently was anyone’s guess. Ignis got to his feet, letting his hands drop to his sides.

“Here,” he called back once the other could see him. “I’m here.”

Gladiolus made his way over, his step just as stealthy as it had been when he’d snuck onto the roof. The talent never ceased to amaze Ignis, not that he showed much surprise for it.

“What’re you doing up here?” the large man asked, stopping a few feet away and crossing his arms over his still bare chest. “It’s barely dawn, you should still be sleeping.”

“Bad dream,” he admitted, shrugging noncommittally. “Nothing to worry about.”

Gladiolus studied him before closing the distance and placing a hand on Ignis’s forehead. Frowning, he batted the large hand down gently.

“Iggy, you look pale. Even for you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Ignis shot back, more sharply than he’d intended. “I had a bad dream is all. With all of the horrid things we face, wouldn’t you expect that?”

Without a word, Gladiolus placed his hand to Ignis’s forehead again. This time, the logic brain kicked in and left it alone. A tight frown creased Gladio’s scarred face and he pulled the shorter man close with a hand placed gently on his shoulders. Leaning slightly, he searched Ignis’s eyes closely.

“You are getting sick,” he declared, letting Ignis go finally and stepping back. “Why haven’t you told us? And why haven’t healing potions worked? You’ve used plenty lately. We all have.”

Ignis shook his head, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. “I’m not sick. You know me, I don’t even catch colds. So why would you think I’m sick?”

Gladiolus, smirking slightly, lifted a hand and started ticking items off on his fingers. “You’re paler than normal. Your eyes are seriously glassy. You’ve dropped weight, and don’t bother saying otherwise. All the links we do, I can tell the difference in your body weight by now. And when’s the last time you finished an entire meal, especially of your own cooking? It’s been nearly a week now.”

Ignis’s left eye twitched as he turned his gaze away. He hated how forthright and insightful Gladio was sometimes.

“It’s nothing,” he said stubbornly, aware of how much like Prompto he sounded. “Just let me be, would you?”

Eyes hardening, Gladiolus reached out and grabbed Ignis by his left arm, right over the wound. Gritting his teeth, Ignis hissed, brought to his knees by the firm squeeze Gladio gave him. The big man leaned to follow him down, easing his hold but not letting go.

“You think I haven’t noticed? You think you’ve hidden this from me?” Gladiolus growled. “Iggy, I _know_ you. I know your moves. I know the flex and flow of every limb of your body.” Ignis felt himself color at the hidden innuendo of the statement. “I can tell that you’ve been favoring this arm in battle, in everything. So tell me what the hell is going on, or by the gods, I will beat it out of you.”

 

Half an hour later, they descended the ladder and headed back to the room, neither speaking. Knowing Gladiolus would be true to his threatening word, Ignis had told him, in growled phrases, about his arm and the wound that wouldn’t heal. He’d barely managed to keep the other part of his problems from spilling out before Gladio had let him go. A small whimper had left him then, and he’d all but collapsed as he leaned over, cradling his arm to his stomach as it throbbed.

“Show me.”

Sighing, Ignis pushed himself upright, doing as he was told. He slid his sleeves up again, peeling back the bandage. It wasn’t bleeding, but it was a brighter, more irritated red than it had been. And there was…

“Oh gods, Iggy…” Gladio’s voice fell sharply as he saw the bruise his grip had left on the pale skin of his arm. “I… I didn’t mean to do that! I didn’t think I had that tight a hold… I’m so sorry…”

Ignis waved him off, shaking his head. “That’s another to add to the list. I bruise far more easily now. The healing potions can take care of those, though. Just not this.”

Gladiolus wasn’t eased by that as he crouched down, taking a far gentler hold of Ignis’s arms. Ignis shivered at the touch. Gladiolus was so full of contradictions; his touch could harm and heal, his voice could frighten and soothe, his smile could turn your blood to ice and it could boil it in your veins. It all depended on how he chose to use it all. The older man leaned close, studying the wound before kissing just below it. Carefully, he covered it back up with the bandage and drew down the sleeves.

“We don’t need to tell the others yet,” he said softly, but firmly. “If it comes to a battle, I’ll do what I can to cover you. We’ll just have to play it off the right way.”

Ignis looked shocked at that, his eyes wide, lips parted. “…what?” he gasped. “You… you can’t… your job is to protect Noctis, not me. Don’t you dare shirk your duty to the Prince, Gladiolus Amiciata!” He knew his voice had dropped, indignant and demanding, perhaps even a little whiny. “He matters, Noctis matters. Not me.”

Gladio’s eyes blazed as he gripped Ignis’s chin with firm fingers, staring into grey-blue eyes with his own honey brown. “You. Do. Matter. To me. More than you care to admit. So suck it up.”

A small smile tugged at Ignis’s mouth then as he stared back into Gladio’s eyes. “I know I matter. I matter behind closed doors. It’s how it’s always been for you and I. The Prince comes first.”

Gladiolus sighed and let go of Ignis’s chin, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip before pulling his hand away. “You matter to me more than just then, Iggy,” he said softly, his voice rough. “Way more than just then. It’s not my fault you hold so hard to your propriety when people are around.”

Getting up, Gladio turned on his heel and walked away. The smile slipped from Ignis’s thin lips, replaced by a frown and a deep knowing that things between himself and Gladio weren’t well lately. And not just because he’d kept the wound a secret. There was more to it than that. Groaning as his arm throbbed, he got to his feet and dusted the grit from his knees. Gathering himself, he followed after Gladiolus, going down after the other, knowing the big man wanted to be at the bottom in case he fell.

They entered the room in time to see Prompto emerge from the bathroom, barefoot and wearing only his pants, his wet hair clinging to his face and neck.

“Good morning,” he sing-songed before dropping the wet towel onto Noctis’s sleeping face.

The Prince, for his part, jerked away, throwing the towel off with a loud swear. Gladiolus laughed heartily, pulling his shirt on. Noctis sat up and rubbed his eyes, groaning and mumbling at the rude awakening.

“I’m going to get the coffee,” Gladiolus announced once he was dressed.

“I’ll come to!” Prompto pulled on his own sleeveless shirt and a vest. “Even your big hands can’t carry all of the coffee the four of us need to wake up.”  
Shaking his head, Gladio walked back out, Prompto bouncing in his wake. Now that the room was quiet, Noctis flopped back down, already asleep again. Ignis took this as his chance to take a shower of his own with little fear of being barged in on. He gathered some clean clothes from his bag.

In the bathroom, the door securely shut and locked, Ignis undressed and studied himself in the mirror. Gladiolus was right. He was pale and thin. Waifish, really. The bruise on his arm stood out more than it should have, making him worry at his lip. Yanking his gaze from the reflection, he started the water and stepped beneath it, shivering as it battered over his body.

His hair fell into his eyes as he soaked it, and he ran his hands through it and pushed it back. His left arm twinged at the elbow, but he ignored it, setting about washing his light brown hair thoroughly. The Regalia was best experienced with the top down, after all, and that mean road grime and whatever the wind could carry would build up quickly, and Ignis did not enjoy feeling grimy. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but that was neither here nor there. The way things were going, travel grime was the only kind he’d be wearing for a long while.

Once his hair was clean, he turned attention to his body. Even as ill as he looked, he made sure to clean from head to toe, using soaps to soften his skin and leave him feeling and looking refreshed. Finally, he turned off the water and stepped out.

The image that greeted him in the mirror shocked him. He looked worse than before, all of his bones showing, his eyes sunken in. Gasping, he ran his hands over himself, feeling firm flesh that the reflection was denying. Gripping the sink in his hands, he closed his eyes and counted to ten, slowly, working his heart down to a normal pace. When he opened them, his reflection was fine, or as fine as it had been before the shower. A tap at the door caused him to jump and make a surprised noise.

“Iggy… coffee’s here. And some breakfast. Hurry up.” Gladiolus’s voice was level, friendly, but Ignis could almost see the worry in his eyes, since surely his back was to the younger men as he spoke through the door. “Before Prompto eats everything.”

“Hey! I would not! Okay, maybe I would, but I SO would not!” Prompto’s voice was defensive, and Ignis knew he was on his feet, ready to defend his own honor as a food hog.

As the three men outside of the bathroom began to tease each other, the laughter eased something in Ignis’s heart. It made him feel that everything would be okay, somehow. Taking a deep breath, he redressed the wound and pulled on his dress shirt. He made sure that he was tucked in and his belt centered, gloves in place on his thin hands before he stepped out. He’d worry about his hair once it was dry. Happily, there was plenty of food left, and the coffee, while not Ebony, went down smoothly and tasted very good. Gladiolus knew just how he took it, and for that, and all of the shield’s attentive ways, he was grateful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of events happen all in one swift moment, leaving Ignis staggered and confused. Slowly, he begins to realize that it’s becoming harder and harder to summon his weapons at will. And if that wasn’t enough, something unseen begins to wreak havoc on his day-to-day life. There’s only one place to go to find a way to save Ignis’s life.  
> The Library of Kings  
> In the Citadel  
> In Insomnia

…2…

 

Over the next few days, Ignis made a point of fighting what was happening to him. He made himself eat more, even when his stomach threatened to reject anything he put in it. He meditated. He looked up remedies on his phone, trying to mix herbs and plants to try to cleanse and heal the wound on his arm.

But nothing worked.

He remained pale and thinning. The bruises from battle were darker, faded slower. Somehow, though, he managed to survive the fights using a set of normal, non-magic daggers that he bought from an arms dealer when none of the others were looking. He stashed them quite well beneath his jacket, his loss of musculature making them easy to conceal under the loose clothing. He knew that Gladiolus knew, so he simply dealt with the looks the big man shot him and largely ignored them.

“Ignis,” Gladio’s voice was right in his ear, causing him to jump and nearly drop the can of Ebony he clutched in his hand. “How are you feeling?”

Closing his eyes to center his thoughts, Ignis took a half step forward and turned, facing the older man.

“Please, do not sneak up on me like that,” he said flatly. “I might not keep my calm and do something rash.”

Gladiolus snorted, a hand darting out to snatch one of the daggers from beneath Ignis’s jacket. “You won’t do much damage to me with one of these things,” he said, studying the plain blade in his palm. “No magic, no sigils, no spells. These things are useless, Iggy.”

Frowning, Ignis took it back quickly and put it away again. “It does what I need it to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“It keeps the others from really noticing. In the fray, no one really pays attention. How would they know there was no summoning when my blades fly?”

Gladio’s face shifted, understanding lighting his eyes a little more. “Is this your way to ensure that I don’t shirk?” he asked dryly.

“Yes.”

Pointed, sharp, the word hung between them. They stared hard into one another’s faces, Gladiolus crossing his arms. Ignis looked away first.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“Why are you being so damn difficult?”  
“Why are you badgering me?”

“Hey… guys…” Both men turned to see Prompto standing a few feet away, looking sheepish. “Is it… a bad time?”

Ignis simply said “no” as Gladiolus barked out a sharp “yes.” Prompto looked back and forth between the two before putting his hands up, backing away.

“Sorry. Another time, I guess.”

“Prompto…” Ignis gave Gladiolus a dirty look, motioning to their youngest member. “What is it?”

“Just that Noct found a fishing hole and wants to know if anyone wants to join him.”

“I’d be glad to,” Ignis said, tossing back the last of his Ebony and putting the can with the rest of their trash. “Be there shortly.”

Prompto nodded and beat a hasty retreat, not even waiting for an answer from the swordsman. Once they were alone again, Ignis turned his gaze back to Gladio.

“For the love of all the gods, Gladio… I’m fine. I’m managing. And asking me every ten minutes if I am only serves to make me feel weaker. So please, stop badgering me.”

Gladio’s eye twitched, his fingers flexing with the desire to grab the other and shake him. Ignis’s sense of pride be damned, he felt useless and powerless, watching the other man fall apart like this.

“… fine. Forget I ever gave a damn.”

Turning on his heel, Gladiolus stormed away, leaving Ignis more confused and lost and hurt, but refusing to let it show on his face.

 

 

Prompto headed back to where Noctis stood, rod in hand, slowly reeling a lure through the water. He hated to bother the prince with shop talk when he was indulging in his hobby, but he had to talk to someone.

“Noct… you got a sec?”  
“Hm?” Noctis glanced over his shoulder, ready to say no, but upon seeing the look on his best friends face, thought otherwise. “Sure. What’s wrong?”

“Do you have any clue why Specs and Gladio are fighting?”

“They’re fighting?”

“You haven’t noticed?”  
“Honestly, no. What are they fighting about?”  
“That’s what I came to ask you.”  
“Oh. I don’t know.”  
“Neither do I.”

Prompto fell silent as Noctis set up to cast again. Looking at Prompto again, he stopped, letting his arm go limp at his side.

“Whatever it is, they’ll get over it. They always do.”  
“I don’t know, Noct. Not this time. Something’s different.”  
“Huh?” Noctis tilted his head, turning to face Prompto, who blushed.

“It’s different this time. Like… like there’s a giant neon sign hanging over them, but I can’t read it or something. They don’t look like they’re going to make up this time.”

“Worried?”

“Well yah. Wouldn’t you be?”  
“Maybe if I knew what was really going on.”

“What are you two talking about?”

Prompto jumped and spun around, eyes wide on Ignis standing a few feet behind them.

“What? Nothing! We weren’t talking about anything…”

Ignis sighed, shaking his head briefly. “Whatever you say, Prom. I’m sorry for not interrupting your not conversation.”

He moved to one side and lowered himself to the ground, settling against the railing post of the dock. Sighing softly, he stretched his legs out, crossing his ankles. Prompto plopped down beside him.

“Specs, how’s it going?” Prompto grinned, folding his legs beneath himself.

“It’s going fine, Prompto, thank you for asking.”

“Ya sure?”

“Positive.”  
Noctis flicked his wrist, the fishing pole vanishing in a flash of sparks. Ignis felt a surge of jealousy and had to look away. The prince sauntered over and crouched down, hands dangling between his knees.

“What he’s getting at is that mom and dad are fighting again.”

Ignis blinked, looking back and forth between the two younger men. Noctis looked amused, Prompto half terrified.

“Ah. I see your point. Well, perhaps… _mom and dad_ … are fighting. But that is nothing to concern yourselves with.”

“Yah but…” Prompto fidgeted, twisting the leather bracelets around his right wrist. “ _Why_ are you fighting?”

“For one, gentlemen, as I said, it is nothing to concern yourselves with. And for another, if Gladiolus and I are in the midst of turmoil, we will get through it. As we do. As we always have.”

Noctis tilted his head. “Why won’t you tell us what’s going on?”

“Because it’s not your business.”

Noctis fell over backwards onto his ass as Gladiolus practically materialized out of nowhere, his voice hard and booming over the gathered trio. The large man swooped in and took hold of Ignis’s hand, tugging him easily to his feet. Wrapping an arm around Ignis’s waist, he gave Noctis a withering glance.

“Aren’t you supposed to be catching dinner?”

Leaving the two boys stunned to silence, he led Ignis back toward the camp.

“What was that all about?” Ignis asked as he was deposited into one of the chairs.

Gladiolus knelt in front of him, his large hands on the arms of the chairs, effectively pinning Ignis in place.

“I heard what was being said. I knew that between the two of them, they’d weasel you, prod you, until you got so frustrated that you blurted out your problem. And then Noctis would lose his mind, Prompto would have a breakdown, and nothing would be done to help you.”

Ignis opened and closed his mouth a few times, then gave up and looked away.

“I am _not_ that far gone,” he said, unable to think of anything else.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Iggy, you’re not well.” Gladio kept his voice down, just in case the others came close. “One of them will wise up sooner or later if you’re not careful. Probably Prompto. You know that kid watches everything.”  
Ignis couldn’t deny that truth, so he simply remained silent.

“Fine. Don’t talk to me.” Gladiolus huffed, reaching into his pocket. “But… here…”

Carefully, fearing to bruise Ignis again by not controlling his strength, Gladiolus took Ignis’s hand, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt and jacket, then tugging the glove down an inch or so. His heart ached at the horribly thin wrist cradled in his left hand, but he resolutely slipped the silver bangle he’d bought onto it. It shimmered, then settled snugly against Ignis’s skin. It glowed faintly, sigils swirling over the surface, and Ignis felt a tracing sensation caress his nervous system.

“Gladio… where…?”

“Just something I picked up. And don’t worry, I used my own cut of the gil, not the group stash. I just wanted to help.”

A soft sigh fell from Ignis’s lips as, even for a few moments, he felt a bit of strength and vitality filter back into his being. Gladiolus put the glove back in place, pleased he’d guess that the piece of clothing would cover the new bangle, then slid the sleeves back into place, smoothing them down gently.

“Gladio… I’m afraid.”

The swordsman was taken aback by the statement, looking up at Ignis. There was no expression on the man’s face, his eyes far away.

“You don’t have to be.”  
“I am. And I don’t know how to handle it.”

Gladio took the hand he was still holding, kissing the back of it. “We’ll handle it together. Like we’ve done everything else in the last ten years.”

Ignis managed a smile, Gladiolus kissing his hand again.

“Look at us,” Ignis said with a dry laugh. “Mom and dad, not fighting anymore.”

Gladiolus’s smile slipped sideways, his expression becoming confused.

“Who?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter, but still sweet. Sorry about the dialogue heavy chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of events happen all in one swift moment, leaving Ignis staggered and confused. Slowly, he begins to realize that it’s becoming harder and harder to summon his weapons at will. And if that wasn’t enough, something unseen begins to wreak havoc on his day-to-day life. There’s only one place to go to find a way to save Ignis’ life.  
> The Library of Kings  
> In the Citadel  
> In Insomnia

…3…

 

When they arrived in Lestallum, Ignis made some excuses to get his three travelling companions to leave him alone in their one shared room. Gladiolus looked put out, but Iris was there to drag the three of them away. She was sharp, that one, and Ignis didn’t doubt for a moment that she’d be all over him as soon as she could to dig for information. There had been times in the last handful of years where he could see how much she was becoming just like her big brother, and while it was a point of pride for Gladiolus, it was also a source of worry and anxiety for all four of the men. If she wasn’t watched, she’d likely have followed them on this journey, and everyone knew how _splendidly_ that was going.

Once Iris had shoved the last man out the door for some sight seeing and had pulled the door closed, Ignis let out a long breath and let his body slump into the chair beside the window. The tension in his body snapped and he felt as if his bones had melted away. He’d been fighting to maintain his composure and an air of normalcy for the sake of Noctis and Prompto, but it was getting hard. Too hard.

He shifted to work his jacket from his shoulders, giving it a weak toss onto the bed beside him. His gloves followed and he examined his fingers. They were thinner than usual, as were his wrists. The bangle that snugged against his skin was looking dull, like it was sapped. The sigils that floated on the surface weren’t so much floating anymore; more like they were trudging. It baffled him how something that was supposed to help keep him alive was actually being killed by him.

Ignis sighed, dropping his hand into his lap. His head lolled back, eyes closing. It was nice to let his guard down a little and rest. Iris would keep them gone for a while. And a little while was all he needed.

_Green light surrounded him, choking him, burning into his skin, creeping down his throat. He tried to scream, but he was being strangled. His hands twitched, spasmed, trying to bring out an antidote, a dagger, something. But nothing would come._

_“I… Ig… gy…”_

_He could hear the others calling out to him, but the voices distorted and echoed, and he couldn’t shout back. He struggled, hands still flailing desperately to call something to help him. His eyes were clouding, he was going blind, and he was drowning in the poison being wrapped around him._

“Ignis!”

The sound of his name being shouted in the room jerked him awake and he found himself on the floor. Rolling to his side, he propped up on his elbow and looked around. There was no one there. He was still alone in the room, and he was covered in sweat. Groaning, he dragged himself to his feet. Panting, he untucked and unbuttoned his shirt, letting it simply hang from his shoulders. He was still disoriented as he stumbled out onto the balcony.   
The breeze blowing off of the mountain was nearly perfect blowing into their upper story suite. Ignis leaned against the railing, looking down at the street below. Watching people moving around the fountain calmed his nerves and soothed his screaming mind.

“Ignis…”

Turning quickly, one had on the railing, he looked back into the room again, tracking the source of the sound. It was still empty, he was still alone. Sighing, he pushed his glasses up with two fingers to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t look down…”

Ignis felt himself being propelled backwards. He shouted as he tumbled over the railing.

 

Gladiolus had been distracted for the first leg of their site seeing trip. Iris was growing irritated and had taken on a similar expression to her brother when he is about to blow a gasket. Trying to ease tensions, Prompto had started prodding Iris to find out which place was the best to get something amazing to eat. Using that talent that only Prompto had, he’d eased her back into a good mood and they’d had a wonderful lunch. Well, three of them did. Gladio was sort of just… there.

Afterward, when even shopping and the promise of Cup Noodles before actual dinner wasn’t enough to crack a smile on that scarred face, Iris had given up. She walked between Noctis and Prompto, an arm linked with each of them, as Gladiolus walked ahead of him. His distraction wasn’t enough to make him get too far away from his king, at least. Prompto kept patting her hand and trying to tell stupid jokes to get her to laugh. She tried to respond, but her laughter fell flat.

They crossed out of the alley across the front side of the fountain. Noctis looked up just before they all heard the shout. Iris screamed, throwing her hands over her face, Prompto grabbed hold of her. Gladio gave his own shout and thundered toward the building full tilt. Noctis watched as Ignis went over, head first, fear in that shout. It was like the world slowed down, and Noctis could see the shock and fear on Ignis’s face. Those hands, always gentle and giving and serious, scrambled, finding purchase on the railing, catching the meaty part of his palm on the ornate design.

“No…” Noctis reacted the only way he knew how.

He called up his air blade, Prompto barely yanking himself and Iris out of the way before the prince pulled back his arm and threw the sword with all of his might. It connected with the brickwork just above the balcony doors with a crash, sending pieces flying. Dropping down, he lunged toward the railing and grabbed Ignis by the wrist.

“Iggy…” he grunted, “what… the hell?”

Ignis couldn’t speak, too busy staring down at the sidewalk below. His glasses slipped, twitched, then fell from his face. Ignis watched them fall and heard the tiniest pinging sound as they bounced on the pavement. Turning his head, he looked up at Noctis, eyes wide, terrified even. Noctis gritted his teeth, reaching down his other hand to grab his wrist. The angle, though, was all wrong for him to be able to haul the taller man back over the railing.

“Any time now, Gladio…” he growled, bracing his foot on the bottom of the rail and fighting for a better grip. “Any… time…”

As if on cue, the door of the room slammed open and Gladiolus flew toward the balcony. Reaching over, he grabbed hold of Ignis by the arm, and with Noctis’s help, they hauled the man back up and over, landing in a heap on the balcony floor. Ignis sprawled on top of Noctis, both of them breathing hard. Gladio crouched beside them, eyes blazing.

“What the hell was that?” he asked as Iris and Prompto burst into the room. “Ig…?”

Slowly, Ignis pushed himself up on his hands, wincing as his injured hand took too much weight. Looking down, he regained enough of himself to be appalled by his position.

“Highness! This… this is not appropriate… forgive me.”

He tried to rise and nearly failed, but Gladio was there, scooping him up and taking him inside. Noctis jumped up and followed.

“Hey, no, Specs, it’s fine. All good. Circumstances and stuff.”

Ignis gave a little smile as Gladio set him on the bed. “Still quite an inappropriate set of circumstances. I do hope you’ll forgive me.”

Noctis motioned the apology away as Iris scrambled over with bandages from their med kit.

“Iggy, what did you do?” she asked softly, carefully wiping the blood from his hand as he lay back on the bed.

“I don’t know,” Ignis said honestly. “I was standing, and then I was not.”

“That’s, uh… a pretty accurate description of what happened, buddy.” Prompto couldn’t help but crack a smile.

Noctis glared halfheartedly at his best friend. “I think she means, what happened that caused you to fall?”

“Oh. I couldn’t tell you.” Ignis twitched and fidgeted, looking at his hands. “I suppose it’s all the traveling and fighting. We’re all exhausted. I suppose… it finally toppled me.”

He didn’t want to admit to the truth. They’d think he’d come completely unhinged if he told them that he’d heard someone in the room calling his name, had heard a single footstep before a set of strong hands had shoved him back over the rail. That the scent of age and decay and _evil_ had followed him down.

“Exhaustion,” Gladio said, his voice rough with thought. “So even the great and powerful Specs can be thrown down by being a little sleepy.”

Ignis sighed, too tired and upset to mount even the slightest defense against that. He settled for a half shrug, since Iris was holding onto the hand she had just bandaged.

“I’m only a man,” he said. “A man who is tired and hungry. Did anyone bring food?”

Prompto perked up at that, completely drawn in by Ignis’s act. It was so simple to accomplish, Ignis felt awful for doing it. But, as long as Gladiolus was the only one truly aware of the state of his being, he’d just have to man up and keep playing.

Noctis, on the other hand, studied Ignis through veiled eyes, staring at his friend and mentor as if seeing him for the first time. He could tell that something was off, but he wasn’t adept enough to put his finger on it. In all the years Ignis had been his advisor and caretaker, he’d _never_ seen the man look this drawn. He might have looked tired a handful of times, when he was comfortable enough to let Noctis see it, but this was different. Ignis looked close to half dead.

“No food,” Prompto said, hopping to his feet. “But I think I know where I can get you something you’ll really like. Just… hold on right there. Don’t go falling off of anymore balconies.” He smirked playfully. “My poor heart can’t take the excitement.”

Shooting Ignis a wink and a thumbs up, Prompto was out the door again. Ignis smiled fondly, his eyes drifting closed.

“Uh, Gladdy…” Iris’s voice was soft. “Does Iggy keep a spare set of glasses? I’m certain I heard his other pair break…”

“Yah, hold on.” Gladiolus reluctantly left Ignis’s side and went to their bags. “He keeps a few spares, just in case.”

Digging around, he pulled out a dark green case and took it back to Ignis. He looked at the man for a few moments, then set them on the table.

“Let him sleep a little,” he told the other two, shifting to sit on Ignis’s other side, careful not to jostle him awake. “Can you two keep quiet for a while?”

Iris and Noctis ended up huddled one of the other beds, talking in soft voices as they played a game on their phones. Gladio watched them as any big brother would, knowing even as he did that Noctis had nothing but brotherly respect for Iris. They all did. Prompto returned, but no one woke Ignis. When dusk fell, Iris retreated to her own room with Jared and Talcott, and still, they let Ignis sleep.

The next day, Gladiolus scoured the whole of Lestallum from one end to the other, but he managed to find two more of the bangles. He put them both on Ignis’s wrist, smiling as a splash of color returned to his face and some of his energy resurged. But they both knew it wouldn’t last long.

 *

“Prompto, get your head out of your ass!” Gladiolus shouted, watching the gunslinger get toppled by the Spiracorn for the fourth time. “Pay attention before you get yourself killed!”

“Yah! Sure, gotcha!” Prompto sprang back to his feet, one of his mechanical weapons appearing in his hands. “Way ahead of ya!”

The satisfying sound of the bioblaster filled the air, along with the screams of the dying monsters. Gladiolus rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the massive beast that was rearing up over his head. He sent it toppling with a hard swing and a powerful connection with the flat of his massive blade. Noctis finished it quickly, and all four men stopped to take stock of their situation. Prompto fell back onto his ass in the dirt, trying to clean Spiracorn goo off of his boot. Gladiolus leaned on his sword where it was buried in the ground, grinning at Noctis who was busy trying to pull bits of leaves and twigs from his hair where he’d been thrown into the bushes a few times. To one side, Ignis bent double over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

“Well… that went well…” Prompto commented, hopping to his feet. “Who’s up for more?”

Ignis straightened, face flushed. “I do believe we should pace ourselves. No need in getting worn out for nothing.”

Noctis laughed. “What’s that, Specs? Feeling your old age?”

“Old… old age?” Ignis straightened fully, drawing to his full height and demeanor. “Highness, need I remind you that I’m only two…”

He was cut off as a Spiracorn charged out of nowhere, slamming into Prompto and sending him careening into Ignis. The older man braced to catch him, the daggers in his hands turned aside to keep from hurting his friend. Both men went flying and tumbling through the dirt. A single warp into the monsters head did the job, then both Noctis and Gladiolus were running to their friends.

Prompto lay to one side, eyes closed with a gash on his forehead that trickled blood into his hair. He was breathing, which was a good thing. Once Noctis decided Prom was alright, he took a few steps toward Ignis. And stopped.

On the ground by his left foot was one of the daggers that Ignis had been using. On the ground. Noctis stared at it, brow furrowed. On the ground. Why was it on the ground? It… it shouldn’t even being visible. That was how their weaponry worked. No bulk, no fuss, no muss. They came when called, and left when unneeded. So why was it still there?

Gladiolus was crouching beside Ignis, talking softly as the other tried to get his mind to clear. Noctis stooped and picked the dagger up, tucking it into his waistband under his jacket. He’d deal with it later. Sucking in a deep breath, knowing that Ignis would see his consternation in a heartbeat, he swiveled around and went back to Prompto, waiting for his friend to come-to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short, but I thought it might work since it's rather intense at the beginning.
> 
> Also... to the folks that have been leaving me awesome words of encouragement and adoration (for the story), I thank you. And please, keep'em comin'! :D


	4. Chapter 4

…4…

 

Noctis waited until Gladiolus offered to go across to the diner to get them dinner and Prompto was sleeping off the last of his headache to speak to Ignis. His advisor was sitting up against the headboard of one of the beds, eyes closed as he rested. He said the hit had taken a great deal out of him, and while Prompto’s headache persisted despite the healing potion for the gash on his scalp, they were inclined to believe him.

He’d been sitting in a chair beside the window for a while, quietly contemplating the empty street outside, chin propped on his fist. He hadn’t really said much when Gladiolus announced he was going to get food, even if no one really seemed like eating. The door clicked shut and Noctis waited for another minute before he got up.

“Ignis…” he said quietly, glancing at Prompto’s sleeping form across the room. “We need to talk.”

Ignis opened his eyes, lifting his head from his chin. He looked pale, gods he was so pale. It made Noctis’s skin crawl with worry. The advisor blinked a few times, shifting on the bed.

“What is it, Noct?”

Bothered by the softness of the man’s voice that wasn’t just a polite whisper, Noctis reached for his bag where it sat at the foot of the bed. Bracing himself, he pulled the dagger free and held it out. Silent.

Ignis’s eyes widened for a few seconds, then he had the decency to look away.

“I’m sure I…” Ignis started.

“Don’t,” Noctis cut across him, stepping closer, still holding the dagger out. “Just… don’t.”

“Forgive me, Highness…” Ignis sounded so small suddenly.

“Why?” Noctis shook the dagger, his brow furrowed. “Why is _this_ here?”

“Because… I needed it, Highness.” His voice was a little firmer, but still small, still weak. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Noctis dropped the plain, almost ugly dagger onto the bed. It bounced against Ignis’s leg, but neither man moved to pick it up. Noctis couldn’t decide whether to be angry or worried, so he settled somewhere in the middle.

“Why?” he repeated through gritted teeth.

“Because I can’t summon, Highness.” Ignis finally looked up, eyes searching Noctis’s face for some understanding. “I can’t call my own weapons to bear.”

Noctis curled his fists against his hips. “And… _when_ were you going to tell _me_ about this?” he hissed, stepping forward again.

“I wanted to, Highness. Forgive me, please, but I didn’t know how.”

“Open mouth. Words fall out. Easy.”

“ _Not_ easy, Highness,” Ignis argued. “Not… easy. How could I? How could I tell you, Highness, that one of your retainers, sworn protectors, couldn’t? What use would I have been?”

“Ignis…” Noctis shook his fists and sighed. “You’re so smart that you’re utterly stupid. How long has it been like this?”

Ignis looked down and away again, trying to remember. “Nearly… three weeks.”

Noctis actually growled. “You… _idiot!_ ”

He moved forward, grabbing Ignis by the shoulders, giving him a shake.

“You idiot! You’re so stupid! How could you do that? How could you not… not tell me? Is your gods damned pride so important to you?!”

Ignis made a small sound and grabbed Noctis by the collar of his jacket. He yanked, still surprisingly strong for looking so weak, and pulled Noctis until the Prince’s forehead rested on his own. He realized the Prince was crying, feeling his fingers bruising the skin of his shoulders with the near death grip he had on him. The tears fell onto his own cheeks, wet and hot.

“Highness… forgive me,” he whispered. “I just didn’t want to add to your worries. You carry so much already, I had no inclination of adding my own sickness to your burden. Please Highness, forgive a fool.”

Noctis shifted, crawling onto the bed and curling up against Ignis’s side. Much as he had as a child, if Ignis remembered correctly, when schoolwork or his training or his father or his lack of friends got to be too much for him, and he needed a respite from the world. He lay his head on Ignis’s stomach, soft silent sobs causing him to shake. Ignis closed his eyes, running thin fingers through smooth, jet black hair. Noctis snaked an arm around his advisor, honestly his first true friend, clinging to him.

Ignis knew that Noctis felt responsible. By the Six, he knew the boy felt responsible for every hardship the three of them faced. Each bump, bruise, scrape, cut, burn or patch of frostbite, Noctis bore their pain as his own. If it weren’t for him, they wouldn’t be out here. They wouldn’t be pursued by the empire, hunted at every turn, their steps dogged by monsters and daemons and the horrible creations that came out of Gralea.

But Ignis never blamed him. Neither did Gladiolus, and Prompto was just too blindly loyal to the Prince to blame him for any wrong doing. The older man let out a soft sigh, continuing to soothe the Prince. This level of vulnerability didn’t come easy to Noctis; he kept everything so bottled up and put away, it was a wonder he hadn’t completely exploded by now. It worried Ignis that he carried so much grief and pain and anger hidden away behind his sullen attitude and quiet demeanor.

“Highness,” he whispered, looking down at the one hiding in his lap. “None of this is your fault.” Ignis kept his voice low and even, trying not to set him off. “This was my fault, I was wounded and didn’t tell you about it. I falsely assumed that I could make it right.”

Noctis didn’t respond right away, but the shaking had subsided. He lay still against Ignis, breathing gently, sniffing once in a while.

“I still think you’re an idiot,” he said finally.

“As always, Highness.”

Noctis shifted around and pulled the dagger out from under his leg. He laid it on Ignis’s stomach, looking at it.

“It’s ugly.”

“Quite.”

“You can tell it’s fake. Or… real. Whatever.”

“Of course, Highness.”

“There’s no markings, no runes or sigils. Nothing to protect you, or aide you. How did you expect to keep fighting with these things and not end up dead?”

Ignis was silent for a few moments. “Gladio.”

Noctis raised his head, looking at Ignis. “Figures.”

“He meant well.”

“He always does. But he should have told me, too.”

“I told him not to.”

“Idiot.”

Noctis laid his head back down, sighing softly. Ignis’s fingers continued their combing through his hair, aiding in the young man relaxing again.

On the other bed, Prompto let out a whine and sat up, scrubbing at his eyes. He blinked, looking over at the two on the other bed.

“What’s this? Cuddle pile without me?”

Noctis started to laugh as he literally threw himself across the gap, landing on the other side of Ignis. Even so, the Prince is quick enough to shift the dagger behind himself and out of sight. Ignis grunted as Prompto settled against his other side, but shifted to pet his hair with his other hand. The blond all but purred in happiness, even though his head still hurt like hell.

Ignis continued to sit there, giving the two young men his gentle attention, feeling their warmth sink slowly into his body, giving him a bit of strength to keep fighting his illness.

_Be careful…_

Ignis went rigid, his eyes scanning the room. Noctis and Prompto remained still, so they hadn’t heard it.

_Don’t look now…_

His eyes swung around again, landing on the dagger. But it was in midair, level with Noctis’s back. He stiffened, opening his mouth.

_I bet this can move faster than you…_

Gritting his teeth, Ignis stared at the dagger, willing it away, begging it to go away. It shifted closer to the Prince.

“Noct…” he said softly.

As soon as Noctis lifted his head to look at Ignis, the door to the room opened to allow Gladiolus in, and the dagger dropped to the floor.

“What’d I miss?” Gladiolus grinned, setting containers of food on the table near the window. “And why are you all piled up on Iggy? Can’t you give him a moments peace?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, and maybe not sweet, but it ends sweet. I think. 
> 
> So sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. Life and such.
> 
> And please don't feel bad for Prompto. He'll be let into the loop soon enough, I promise.


	5. Chapter 5

…5…

It was three days later that Ignis well and truly nearly got himself killed.

They’d been poking around the area for at least an hour, searching out the old traps that had become horribly well hidden over the years. Noctis and Gladio were on one side of the place circled on the map, Ignis and Prompto on the other. Ignis was glad that they had to move slowly, because he was feeling terribly drained to begin with. He could stop and rest without drawing attention to himself.   
Prompto had started to complain, but Ignis was only half listening. Noctis was adding his two cents in as he crouched down, gingerly pulling some leaves back from another of the traps.  
“Noct, I…”   
He heard it step up behind him and began to turn. As he moved, the Coeurl screamed in rage and lashed out with its whiskers. Ignis was suddenly aware of nothing but the massively painful surge of electricity flowing through his already weakened body. Every muscle seized up, his eyes rolling back, lungs locking up and shutting down. This was nothing like accidentally stepping into the crossfire of Noctis’s lightning based magic. This was a hundred, a thousand times worse. He tried to scream, but his lungs would draw no breath. His jaw slammed shut and he tasted blood as he bit down on his tongue.   
As quickly as it started, the assault stopped, and Ignis was being flung aside like a ragdoll. Noctis warped to him without thinking, catching him before he slammed full force into a tree, rolling and tumbling through the duff with him.  
“Ignis!” he shouted, ignoring the cuts on his own skin as he crouched over his advisor. “Ignis! Hey! Come on, Iggy… come on…”   
Ignis was still rigid, blood seeping from one ear and his nose. Noctis pressed his ear to Ignis’s chest, listening, praying, begging silently. Behind him, Prompto and Gladiolus were fending off the Coeurl, but he shoved their voices out of his mind. He had to listen. Faintly, weakly, almost non-existent… Ignis’s heartbeat.   
“Thank the gods,” he sighed, sitting up long enough to call the strongest healing potion they had in their stores to his hand. “Bitch at me later for using this, but you need it.”  
Carefully, he placed it into Ignis’s hand, rubbing and working his stiff fingers until it gripped the vial. Then, careful that no part of his own hand came in contact with it, he pressed them, shattering the potion. It flowed over Ignis like a translucent blue blanket, sinking into every inch of his body in a blink, the vial itself dissolving into nothingness just as quickly. Noctis watched closely, holding his breath.   
Ignis twitched, his eyelids fluttering a few times before he bolted upright.  
“Noct! Watch out for… for the…”   
His head swiveled around, his eyes meeting Noctis’s. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came as his eyes rolled back again and he slumped into the prince’s arms. Noctis grunted, catching the full weight of his advisor. Shifting, he sat on the ground, cradling the unconscious man to his chest.   
Gladiolus and Prompto hurried over after the Coeurl decided to beat a hasty retreat, yowling and screaming the entire time. Prompto hit his knees and skidded up to them, eyes wide and terrified.   
“Is… is he…?”  
“He’s alright,” Noctis said quickly. “He’s alive. Just unconscious is all. He’ll be okay.”  
“Not if we don’t get him somewhere safe,” Gladio huffed. “I don’t trust that thing not to come back with friends.”  
The big man crouched, taking Ignis’s left arm in his hand. Without a word, he tugged up the sleeves and shifted the glove, frowning at the blackened and cracked accessories underneath.   
“These are useless,” he muttered, pulling the bangles from his wrist and throwing them aside. “Come on. We need to move.”  
Gladiolus took Ignis from Noctis, hefting the slight frame into his arms with ease. A look of worry crossed his face for a moment, and although he covered it quickly, Noctis saw it. He caught his Shield’s eye and gave a short nod. He could tell what Gladiolus was thinking. Ignis barely weighed anything at all now.   
“Prompto, take point,” Gladiolus instructed. “Stay alert.”  
Prompto obediently rose to his feet and stepped into the lead, summoning out one of his stronger guns. Noctis fell in behind Gladiolus, eyes glued to Ignis’s hand where it hung limp, swinging gently as Gladio walked. Sucking in a deep breath, he forced himself to look around, keep aware of his surroundings.   
Luckily, the outpost was right there, and they already had a room set up, so it was nothing to get Ignis there and lay him on one of the beds. Gladiolus set about taking off glasses, gloves and shoes, laying them all aside neatly for when Ignis woke up. His breathing had steadied and his heartbeat was a bit smoother. Finally, he simply sat at the foot of the bed, staring at the floor.  
Prompto was standing by the door, looking from man to man. He felt like he was missing something, he just couldn’t figure out what. He’d seen the look the other two had shared.  
“Uh guys… why is he… I mean, you gave him potion, right?” Noctis nodded, still staring at Ignis. “So… why isn’t he up and going? That’s the point of those things, right? He shouldn’t be all… Sleeping Beauty over there… and those bangles you tossed shouldn’t have been so… ugly… so what gives?”  
Gladiolus sighed, glancing up at the man on the bed. “Iggy’s sick, Prompto.”  
“Sick? Sick how? With what?”  
“We don’t know.”  
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Prompto’s voice was cracking with worry. “And you!” He rounded on Noctis, pointing a finger. “You knew?”  
“Yes…” Noctis had the good graces to look ashamed.   
“How long?!”  
“A… few days. Honest.”  
The little blonde’s eyes went wide, staring at his friend. He sputtered, clenched and unclenched his hands a few times, then sighed, dropping down to sit on the floor. He folded his legs up under himself and poked at the carpet.  
“Thanks for thinking I’d like to know,” he muttered, but his voice was worried now, the burst of anger having already receded.   
“Hey, I found out by accident,” Noctis said gently, not wanting to stir Prompto up again. “I really did.”  
On the bed, Ignis stirred, mumbling incoherently then stilling again. Three sets of eyes turned on him, worried and hopeful at the same time. When he didn’t wake, they drifted away again.  
“What happened to him?” Prompto asked, looking pointedly at Gladiolus.  
“He’s got a cut on his left arm. He got hit by an Imp during a healing. It’s… not been good for him since.”  
“Why didn’t he tell anyone?”  
“Because it’s Iggy,” Gladiolus answered with a snort. “When does he ever tell anyone when he’s the one in need of something?”  
Prompto sighed. “You’re right.”  
“I told him he was an idiot,” Noctis muttered, falling back onto the other bed.   
“Maybe he is, but at least he’s a loyal idiot.” Gladiolus tried to smirk, but it came out more of a grimace. “Always doing what he thinks is best for the rest of us, not a care for himself. Trust me, I’ve had a conversation or two with him about just that, but he just keeps on keepin’ on the way he is.”  
“He’s going to get himself killed one day,” Noctis spat, sitting up again. “He’s going to let his own health slide and get himself killed and there’ll be no one to blame but himself.”  
“Noct…” Gladiolus shifted.  
Noctis shook his head sharply. “No… no. Don’t defend him, Gladio. Today… today was too close. He shouldn’t have been out there. Not like he is. He… he can’t even defend himself! And he’s usually so on top of things, so aware… but now look at him. Look! I can’t… I can’t let him do this to himself anymore.”  
“It’ll destroy him if you make him stay behind,” Gladio pointed out, rising to his feet. “You know that. His place is at your side, always has been. Same as mine. Same as Prompto’s. You can’t ask him to put aside his duty, his choice to serve you.”  
“He’ll stop if I damn well tell him to!” Noctis ground his teeth together.  
“He might, yes, but you know what that would do. You know where that would put him. And the last thing we want is Iggy in that deep dark place. Especially now, after all we’ve been through.”  
Noctis’s eyes flew to the still supine figure of his advisor on the bed, his face impassive as he studied the man. So many emotions ran through his eyes, though, and Gladiolus had to take half a step back. He’d never seen Noctis so… well… he didn’t know how to describe what he was seeing. There was more than anger there, more than fear or upset. Oh… wait… that’s what it was.  
Noctis was disappointed.   
Gladiolus exchanged a glance with Prompto, who nodded and hopped up, moving over to the Prince. He lightly touched his shoulder, shaking gently.  
“Come on, dude. I’m starving. Let’s go get something from the diner.”  
Noctis slowly turned his gaze to Prompto, and the look of disappointment instantly faded, replaced by a level of gratitude and understanding. Noctis’s shoulders sagged slightly.  
“Yah. Okay. Let’s do that.”  
He let Prompto lead him away, refusing to look at Gladiolus as they passed and swept out the door. Gladiolus let out a soft sigh, turning to the man on the bed.  
“Never thought he’d look at you like that,” he said to Ignis. “When we get you better, you’d better grovel your ass off. You hear me?”  
Ignis made no reply, not even a mutter. Gladiolus sighed again, fetching something clean from Ignis’s bag. Moving carefully, he stripped Ignis of his outermost clothing, cleaned up the dirt and scratches with warm cloths from the bathroom, and redressed him. He doubted the man would mind, not with their history. Sitting on the bed beside him, Gladiolus gently touched the other mans cheek.  
“Hey,” he called softly. “If you’re in there… don’t go leaving me behind. Okay? It isn’t fair to ditch me out here in the middle of nowhere with those two. So you better not go anywhere without me.”

~~~~~~~>@

Prompto and Noctis returned more than an hour later, and Noctis seemed much more relaxed than he had been. He handed Gladiolus a plate of food, looking only a little sheepish.  
“Sorry about before,” he muttered, casting little glances up into his shield’s face, rather than make full eye contact. “I’m just worried.”  
Gladiolus placed a heavy hand on the Prince’s shoulder, shaking him gently to make him look up.  
“We all are,” he said, voice rough as if they were in a training session. “Each of us has our doubts and fears, but right now, we have to hold onto hope. For Iggy. If we give up on him, he might give up on us. And none of us want that.”  
Noctis’s eyes went wide at the thought, darting past Gladiolus to his advisor again.  
“Could… could he really…?” he choked out.  
“No.” Gladiolus shook him again. “He won’t. He wouldn’t dare. I only said that so you’d understand the position he’s in. And so you’ll be gentle with him until we get him better.”  
Noctis looked up into his face again, and nodded. Gladiolus let him go, sitting on the foot of the bed to eat what they had brought him. Noctis and Prompto piled into the second bed, playing on their phones, but there was no laughter, no shouted encouragement or sounds of defeat. Gladiolus couldn’t blame them.   
Eventually, the two younger men settled in for the night, Prompto falling asleep a little quicker. Noctis lay on his side, watching Ignis for a while, his eyes following the steady rise and fall of the other’s chest. After a time, his blue eyes closed and his body relaxed into sleep.   
Gladiolus shifted to the head of the bed beside Ignis, leaning against the headboard so he could read his book. He wasn’t going to sleep, not tonight. Even having been giving a curative, Ignis was still fighting to hang on. He’d checked the wound as he’d dressed the man, had seen the lines of blackness beginning to spread around it. They were faint, but they were there, and it sent a chill down Gladiolus’ spine. So he read, and he watched Ignis breathe, and he prayed. He prayed to all of the Six that Ignis would just be okay.

~~~~~~~>@

The sun was already falling through the window the next morning when Ignis slowly opened his eyes. He groaned as the painful light lanced through his head, bringing an arm up to block it out. Confusion set in as he realized he was wearing a T-shirt and no gloves, and his glasses were absent. The bed shifted and he let his head roll to the side, peeking up through his fingers at Gladiolus looking down at him.  
“Wha…” Ignis tried, but his mouth was so horribly dry, and working his tongue produced no saliva to wet it. His brow furrowed.  
Without a word, Gladiolus gently pulled him into a sitting position, pressing a glass of water into his hand. He stayed close, steadying the man as he carefully sipped, whisking the water around his mouth before swallowing. It took four times before he felt he could manage words.  
“What… happened?” Ignis’s throat felt like it was on fire. “Where…?”  
“Coeurl,” Gladiolus offered, watching the other’s face as it contorted in thought. “Yesterday. It got the jump on you. Delivered a nasty jolt to your system.”  
“How… did I get…?”  
“I carried you like a fancy sleeping bride,” Gladiolus smirked, watching Ignis blush a little.  
Ignis covered it up by taking a few more sips of the water. He glanced around, noting the silence in the room.  
“Where are… the others?”  
“I made them go away. They’re probably over at the diner playing Justice Monsters, if they know what’s good for them.”  
Ignis nodded, draining the last of the water from the glass. His stomach gurgled and knotted slightly, but he ignored it. His head was clearing slowly, memories of yesterday coming clearer.   
“I’m sure my condition has been worrisome,” he said softly, looking down at his hands in his lap. “And that they both know now.”  
“I didn’t have a choice, Iggy,” Gladiolus told him gently. “Prom was freaking out. We had to explain it to him.”  
Ignis nodded in that way he did, when he didn’t like what he heard but accepted it anyway.   
“Well, it doesn’t do to have secrets in a group this tight knit,” he conceded. “I suppose it should have been me to tell him, though. I doubt he’ll forgive me that anytime soon.”  
“You know Prompto.” Gladiolus smiled. “He’ll forgive you, probably already has. He’s not one for grudges. You’ll see. They’ll come through that door and the kid will be all over you.”  
“I suppose you’re right.” Ignis felt himself smile a little, fondness for the energetic blond blooming in his chest. “As I am sure it is Noctis that I will have to contend with.”  
“Figured that out, did ya?”  
“It’s only right. He is the one that would hurt the most because of this.”  
Gladiolus took Ignis’s hands, gripping them tightly. “Don’t. Don’t do that. You’ll make it right with Noct later. Right now, we need to figure out how to fix this, fix you. And it won’t do any good if you let yourself get beaten down by doubt. It’s time to get back on your feet, Crownsguard. Hear me?”  
Ignis smiled again, nodding.   
“This is why you’re in charge,” he teased. “To keep us all in line.”  
“Good little ducks, all in a row.”  
They shared a laugh as the door burst open and the two younger men fell into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me for putting Ignis through so much. >__< It'll get better.
> 
> Eventually.
> 
> Right? Is has to. Right?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first FFXV fanfic attempt. More like, this is my first fanfic in... too long. Everything else I'm posting is all old works. I'm getting back into it, so please, be gentle.


End file.
